Indian sex scandal

An Indian holy man been has been filmed cavorting with actresses. This harmless recreation has disgraced him the eyes of his followers and created a big scandal. Even the police have got into the act, investigating the incident as if they themselves were celibate. Maybe they're jealous he has actresses at his beck and call while they can only afford the cheapest and ugliest whores. Hopefully the guru will be able to bribe them, but if he does become a fugitive some obliging person should offer him sanctuary. Perhaps a retired Bollywood actress could employ him as her live-in yoga instructor. You don’t become a holy man without having transferable skills.

As for his congregation, I’m not sure whether their outrage is justified. If he made a big point of being a bramacharya they are entitled to feel aggrieved. No one likes to be deceived by a shark in lobster’s clothing, especially if the shark has been taking your money and telling you not to eat meat. If that’s what he did, they have a reasonable excuse to chop off his fins and sell them to the Chinese. But if he never claimed to practice sexual abstinence, they should apologise for their ungrateful behaviour and tell the police to stuff chillies up their backsides. A man doesn’t become a charlatan just because a few actresses jump on top of him.

I know from experience that celibacy is not essential for a guru. Back in my circus days, we were honoured by a visit from Swami Nanga Anand, the venerable love doctor of Rajasthan. His Hindi name was purely symbolic, as he wore a white dhoti in deference to his modesty. Bald and beardless, yet strikingly handsome, he sat down cross-legged and bade us join him as he expounded on his Tantric philosophy:

“Sex, you see, is in the mind not the body. If the mind is corrupt then the body is also corrupt. If the man is thinking, I want to use this woman, I want to empty my lust into her, the sexual act will bring no contentment to his soul.”

Most of us nodded in reverential assent, but the ringmaster emitted a sceptical grunt.

“So what should the man be thinking?” he asked in a sardonic tone of voice.

The Swami smiled and shook his head before responding, which is how to show appreciation of a good question in India.

“While having sex, the man must be thinking, I will make this woman feel the warmth of a thousand suns, I will take her with me to heaven. Then the sex will be a purification of body and mind for both of them.”

I could tell the female acrobats were hugely impressed by this doctrine as they gazed at the Swami in rapt devotion. I discovered, a little while later, that a couple of them had asked him for a crash course before he left. Although I suspected Mr Nanga of being a devious impostor, I did nothing to dissuade them. Any man who can persuade women that having sex with him is a holy sacrament has fairly earned his oats.

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The unbendable cop

I only found out last month that Jack Lord, the saturnine star of Hawaii-Five-0, passed away in 1998. I suppose it’s too late send flowers and a condolence card. Who could ever forget that moment in the opening credits when the camera zooms in on the resolute face of Steve McGarrett, standing tall on the uppermost balcony of the Ilikai Hotel? It was a sight to give any watching crooks the willies – and possibly a touch of vertigo as well.

Those dynamic opening shots – the big wave, the high-speed zoom, the wiggling hips – were perfectly synchronised to perhaps the most thrilling theme music in television history. Quite rightly, the tune was reprised in the closing sequence featuring burly Polynesian oarsmen heaving away in their canoe. When tourists ask me what to do if a crocodile approaches their rowboat, I tell them to paddle like the blazes while dah-dahing the Hawaii-Five-0 theme. It never fails to add a couple of knots to your speed, which can make the difference between a lightning flight and a frightening bite. The Eton Boating Song is a nursery rhyme for lethargic sea slugs by comparison.

The show itself was good clean entertainment. Everyone has their own favourite episode – I’ll never forget the one in which the ‘Five-0’ team snare an obnoxious neo-Nazi plotter. When the would-be Reichsprotektor of Honolulu is finally spreadeagled, McGarrett solemnly declares:

“Leave him to me Danno, I’ll read him his rights myself.”

They don’t write lines like that anymore. Nabbing the bad guy was never enough for McGarrett – he always had to make an apt final remark to reinforce the moral of the story. “How many rights would a suspect have under a Nazi regime?” is the entirely valid point he was making. I bet any watching neo-Nazis must have felt like utter chumps.

The secret of McGarrett’s success was his total dedication to the cause of law-enforcement. Leading the ascetic life of the brahmacharya, all his virile energy went into ridding Hawaii of the mobsters and villains who infested her beaches and boulevards like multiplying head-lice. There was an episode in which McGarrett did have a love affair (with a woman), but this was obviously a clumsy attempt to prove he wasn’t gay. The stupid producers didn’t realise that: (a) no genuine fans of the show gave a hoot that McGarrett was celibate and (b) it is literally impossible to prove that anyone is not gay. Forcing him to kiss a woman simply undermined his dignity while making everyone wonder if he’d rather be kissing Danno.

Although McGarrett was undoubtedly the alpha male of Five-0, I personally identified with Chin Ho, whose thickset physique was closest to that of a gorilla. You could always rely on Chin to do the sensible thing, unlike pretty-boy Danno who was constantly getting into trouble. When I was a young circus ape, I used to take a starting pistol in both hands and aim it at the nearest mirror, shouting “CHIN! FIVE-0!”. Believe me, I was such a fearsome sight that I scared myself.

The deeper message of Hawaii-Five-0 is that even the most affluent and idyllic of human commonwealths will have its fair share of malefactors who prey on the innocent. Paradise on Earth is not for homo sapiens, hence the need for incorruptible lawmen who devote their lives to putting the rogues behind bars. Sneer not at Steve McGarrett, O featherbrained human sheep! He gave up sex that you might live.

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